The crab legs were chocked full with meat, and after 10 excruciating minutes of extracting the flesh, I unabashedly ate them by the spoonful, each drenched in the liquid gold of brown butter. I may be in the prime of my youth, but I could almost feel my heart and arteries squeezing tighter. Doesn’t matter. Take my money, and take my life too.

The server asked if we would like to order a side of sourdough as accompaniment. Being the new-age-carb-fearing men that we are, we declined. Alas! the folly. I teared a little as they carried the butter away.

A little steep at 95 bucks, but still a must order. Treat yo’self! You’ve already made it through the waitlist! Order. This. Dish.